The Circle Breaks
by A. Lee
Summary: HIATUS The Circle of Magic is no more ... why? And will they ever get back together again? AU after Briar's Book. In the process of revision.
1. The Broken Circle

Author's Note: Written between the first and second quartets, so will be AU from after Briar's Book. This is in the process of being revised, chapter by chapter.

Lady Sandrilene fa Toren fingered the well-worn strip of thread with four equally-spaced flubs. It was now the only connection she had with her past—a connection she often fingered, but never used. Ever since the Breaks, as she referred to them in her mind, she preferred not to think about her old life or her old friends. Remembering meant only pain.

As she traced the different colors splayed across the thread, words formed on her lips—Tris … Briar … Daja … herself—and whispered messages to each. Oh Tris … _you were right after all. I should have listened to you from the beginning_. Briar … _it started so suddenly. We started to take sides … and I chose the wrong one_. Daja … _I'm sorry we dragged you into it … if only I had listened to you_. As for myself … _I was so silly and so naive_.

It had started so simply. Sandry had met a young mage. He was a prestigious one, embarking on a path to achieve great power. Torero, his name had been. He had said it meant Truth. How ... ironic. He had been handsome and charming; his golden-blonde curls and blue-green eyes had made her weak-kneed. When she first saw him, her stomach had fluttered. It wasn't hard to fall for him, hook, line, and sinker.

Oh, she had been silly with longing, had fallen in love with the idea of being in love. That was back when Daja and Kirel had begun walking around, holding hands. Somehow, Sandry had missed the whole flirtation process, only noticed when the handholding began. And each time she saw them, she felt a pang of jealousy. She had examined that pang, and realized something. She wasn't jealous of Daja because she liked Kirel, nor was she jealous of Kirel because she liked Daja.

What she envied was what they had. She may have been young and foolish, but she wanted someone to love, to kiss, and to hold. And Torero had been ... there.

Tris had been the first to have misgivings. Tris mentioned a bad feeling about Torero. "I just can't find it in myself to trust him," had been her exact words. And Sandry, blind with what she thought was love, had declared that Tris was only jealous. This had left to a rift of sorts, and Tris and Sandry soon began having more and more fights, most of which were centered around Torero. And then.

_Flashback_

"I told you, I don't trust him!"

"Tris, don't you think you're being rather unreasonable?"

"_I'm_ being unreasonable? Do you seriously consider your precious _Torero_ more trustworthy than _me_?"

"Oh, Tris, you're just being silly-"

"_Silly_? _I'll_ give you _silly_! I _must_ have been silly, to think that the friendships forged by necessity would last! I've had enough of you! And this damned Circle, too!"

And then, somehow, Tris managed to wrench herself from the Circle. Where Tris had once been in Sandry's mind, there was now nothing. Tris stumbled a bit from the shock, but then she turned and she left.

Sandry never saw her again.

_End Flashback_

The pain at losing Tris almost brought her out from underneath Torero's spell (for she would not have fought with Tris over so trivial a reason if there hadn't been some manipulation involved). Almost. The alienation continued.

Daja had been next to leave. She had not approved of the driving away of Tris, nor did she approve of Torero's possessive nature, for Torero was always pulling her away from her friends for some activity or another. By then, Daja and Kirel had already ended their relationship, and Sandry had once again mistakenly blamed the concern on jealousy.

_Flashback_

"I'm serious, Sandry. His possessive nature can-"

"Daja, I'm really sorry, but if you're just going to talk badly about Torero again, I-"

"You deserve better, Sandry. His love for you, it's-"

"Our love is as true as it gets!"

"... will you, once again, choose him over you friends?"

"Will you leave me, too, Daja?"

"It is not I who leave. It is you who drives me away."

And then, there had been that wrench as Daja did whatever-it-was that Tris had done. And then she was gone, too. She did not told either Frostpine or Kirel of her whereabouts. She simply disappeared with the most basic of belongings.

Sandry sometimes wondered if she and Tris were together somewhere.

Probably not.

_End Flashback_

Briar, every-trustworthy Briar, had been last. He had been full of common sense, but her mind had being completely poisoned by Torero by then. And then she had done the unforgivable ...

_Flashback_

"Listen, Sandry. Torero is just using you!"

"You lie! Torero _loves_ me. I'm going to marry him one day."

"Sandry, would just listen to me? Have you even considered-"

"Torero told me the other day that you love me and that you want me for yourself. He said you would try to sabotage our relationship. I told him he was wrong, but I guess he was right! I can't believe you."

"No, I can't believe you. Maybe I should leave you, too. Maybe if you're alone, you'll have to think for yourself, and you'll be able to save yourself before it's too late. Maybe if I leave, the pain of your loneliness will _wake you up_."

And then, the wrench. The emptiness. Almost familiar now. She was truly alone, for the first time.

His parting shot. "I loved you once, Sandry, it is true. No longer."

_End Flashback_

Briar had guessed correctly. The pain of being alone allowed some of her sanity and lucidity to return, just in time to see Torero attempting to drain away the remainder of her magic. She hadn't been able to use the stitch-witch powers on him, but ...

She had had a knitting needle with her, at the time. She stabbed him with it. Repeatedly. Watched as he bled over the silk dress, and snarled at her, and tried to strike her. She had stabbed him again, and again, and again, even after her was dead. Her teachers found her like that the next morning.

She hasn't used magic, since. She takes out this peculiar thread, occasionally, holds it and remembers. She imagines that if she tried, maybe she could call out to them. Maybe they would come.

But she is Lady Sandrilene fa Toren, and she had made a terrible mistake. She is too proud to call out to her friends, to beg them for forgiveness. She was heiress to the Duchy of Emelan, and was too proud to grovel.

She was proud.

_Pride cometh before a fall ..._

To be continued ...


	2. The Tragic News

The Trader put the finishing touches on the very last nail and put it with the rest with infinite care. There was once a time when she had hated making nails. She had wanted and yearned for more, for a project that required, among other things, magic. She had been a child newly come into her powers, unable to cope with the thought of never having that power at hand. Now, though, she had learned what magic brought with it. She knew better. She had grown into an adult who understood far, far more than she would have thought herself able. She still _had_ the magic close at hand, but … no, she was a _lugsha_ now, a choice _she_ had made.

It wasn't that the magic was no longer available to her. She could still use it if she so wished. But after that horrible day, in which she had decided to abandon her friends, she had used magic but once. And along with the familiarity the magic usually brought had come an overwhelming sense of emptiness and loneliness. She had known, at the time, that all she needed to do was go back. She had known that she would be accepted back without question. But one fault the _Tsaw'ha_ retained was their pride. And she was proud, much too proud to admit that she missed her friends.

So she would spend the rest of her life without touching her magic. A fitting punishment, for one such as her, who had so easily destroyed a once-precious circle when provoked. She had done a wrong, and she would live with the consequences.

She continued making nails.

Unnoticed by her, an innocently-unlabeled envelope slipped under the door.

* * *

A young merchant at the Capchen family's headquarters was busy entering data and calculating interests, mindnumbing drudgery that she could do with her eyes closed. She had surprised everyone when she showed up, but her peculiar habits had seemed to have disappeared, and Capchen had been in a state of expansion and needed all the help they could get.

They asked no questions, and she told no lies.

She never handled anything remotely sensitive or important, never rose too high in rank, but that was to be expected. She was still looked upon strangely by those who knew her from _before_, and she only paid half of her attention to anything she was doing at any one time. The other half was focused on pushing away her magic.

It is one thing to declare a renunciation of magic, but quite another to do it. Especially if you had some difficulty controlling it in the first place. But she managed. As she sorted through the mail sent to the Capchen house, the familiar scent of herbs sprinkled in with letters sent from the Winding Circle seemed to overwhelm her. It took a couple of moments for her to calm down, but by then she had located the source of the smell.

An envelope, addressed in a familiar hand to her. Her hands hesitated over it, before they plucked it out of the stack. She read the words on the address, "To Trisana Chandler" over and over, not quite believing that she was holding it.

Finally, almost reluctantly, she opened it. Her eyes flew over the words of the letter, and she came to closest she had in a long time to losing control of her magic.

This? This ... was terrible.

* * *

The noble one, she received her news in person. Winding Circle wasn't far from her Great-Uncle's place, and although she hadn't stepped foot there since her departure, her old teachers did occasionally come to visit. She was usually quite inhospitable, ashamed to meet them because she hated reminders of her past stupidity.

But Niko had come, today, in the middle of the reports her uncle the Duke was receiving, and asked for a private audience with her. Seeing the look on his face, she had agreed.

She had guessed it would be bad, but had not even come to close to imagining its extent. His news rocked the very foundations of her world.

* * *

The young thief was the last to hear, the hardest to contact. But one day, as he passed by the garden that he passed each day, he dropped down to touch the leafy plants, an action he permitted himself but once a week.

He never touched his magic. But he ... communed with his plants. And the news they had for him today ...

* * *

_We shall sorely miss our loss in the passing-away of dear Dedicate Rosethorn of Winding Circle Temple. May she rest in peace. You are especially invited to her funeral, beginning at noon on Midsummer's Day._

_Moonstream_


	3. The Reunion

They didn't attend the public funeral. But after the crowds had come and paid their respects, afterwards, they each came in their own time and paid their own private respects.

Briar had been last. When he arrived, and saw the grave, he almost chuckled. On top of the pile were three perfectly-thorned roses, of which he had brought one as well. "I hope you are at peace now, Rosethorn," he murmured as he laid his rose on her grave as well.

* * *

She stood outside Discipline, still as a statue. It had been a long time since her last visit her. Her dress was simple and black, slightly plainer than a more fashionable lady's might have been. She looked the part of the perfect lady, with a black parasol, and black shoes, each of her accessories expressing her state of mourning.

Next to arrive was the weary merchant girl with slightly frumpier black mourning clothes. Her copper curls had been tamed underneath the black scarf that covered it, and her black shawl was tucked tightly around her. Her spectacles were wet with tears. She didn't seem to startle the other girl, as she stepped beside her and waited patiently.

They were soon joined by a tall, dark girl in crimson. The Trader leaned on her staff with a casual grace and nonchalance, even as she seemed not to notice the girls that stood beside her. They stood there in silence, not quite an awkward silence yet not quite a comfortable one.

The silence lasted five, ten, fifteen minutes before the final member of the once-close quartet arrived. Although the other three had red eyes, those eyes were now dry. This boy's eyes were still suspiciously wet, his hair windblown and his clothing quite ratty.

They didn't speak to each other, didn't acknowledge each other, but when they finally moved, it was almost as one. They filed into the small cottage that was so familiar to them in complete silence.

* * *

Daja made the tea, gracefully, elegantly, quietly. The other three sat around the table and did not make eye contact, did not speak, and did not allow themselves to even _think_ the thought that would lead to a train of painful memories.

Tris did not let herself close her eyes. If she would but close her eyes, she would be able to so easily pretend that it was years before, when she and her friends were young and innocent. Lark and Rosethorn would be serving the tea. They would be joking, and laughing, and talking. Perhaps Niko would be dining with them. Or Frostpine. If she let herself, Tris could daydream about the past. But she didn't. And so, of course, she wasn't startled out of her daydream by Briar's voice.

"Where are the plants?" His voice cracks on the last word. He would have stayed silent, if he could, but the absence of Rosethorn's plants bothered him too much, and pride was a luxury only Bags could afford, anyways.

"Lark moved them all to Rosethorn's room, in the last stages of her sickness," Sandry said in a low voice. 'Last stages' sounded like it meant days, or weeks. It had been hours. And Sandry had not been there, though she could have so easily, because Rosethorn had not wanted Sandry's last memories of her to be of a ghost of a woman confined to a bed. And so Sandry had not been informed.

Shouldn't she feel more sorrow? Some guilt, perhaps? Shouldn't Sandry feel something more than empty?

Four children walked in, interrupting Sandry's train of thought.

There were two boys and two girls, their features ranging the spectrum. They each wore novice's habits, not typical of Discipline residents, Sandry hadn't thought. Their habits each bore a symbol for a different element, and their faces each bore defensive, belligerent scowls.

"Who are you?" one demanded, the redhead, the girl.

"What are you doing in Discipline?" a boy asked, the blond one.

"Are you even listening to us? We're talking to you!" the other girl, the dark-haired one demanded.

"If you're not Dedicates, you have no right to be here. Even if you _are_ Dedicates, this is Discpline, so you shouldn't be here anyways," the last one, the quiet boy with brunette hair, said gravely.

Daja had by now finished the tea. She poured a cup for she, Briar, Tris, and Sandry each. They ignored the children.

"Are you deaf or just dumb?" the dark-haired belligerent demanded.

"Pirelle!" the redhead scolded. "That's rude."

"They're the ones-" the aforementioned Pirelle began, but at this moment Lark and Niko entered the room.

"Lark!" the brunette said with a modicum of relief. He seemed relieved someone else would making the decisions.

"There are four _strangers_ in this house, and they won't say a _word_!" She was obviously infuriated.

Lark and Niko exchanged significant glances.

"How did she die?" Briar wanted to know.

"Sandry can tell you," Niko said smoothly. "I know Moonstream told her. Haven't you asked?"

It was obvious that Niko and Lark weren't about to tell, so Briar reluctantly posed the question of Sandry, still without making eye contact. "How did she die?"

Sandry took a calming breath, not because she could feel any emotion but emptiness, but because the atmosphere in the room was getting to her. "It was natural disease. A fairly quick one. By the time she let the healers be summoned, the healers couldn't do anything but predict how long she had left to live." A short pause, then, "She had enough time to write a will, and make arrangements for her funeral." Sandry hesitated again, before adding on in a lower voice, "She gave orders that I was not to be told. She didn't want to worry me."

"She looked forward to the death, if it is any consolation," the boy with brunette hair offered.

Lark and Niko seemed to realize that the children were in the room for the first time. "Why don't you four visit Dedicate Gorse for now," Niko said in a firm voice.

The children seemed about to object, but saw Niko's somberness, and obediently scuttled off.

"Are they the latest students of Discipline?" Tris asked, half-casually.

"And, we hope, your students," Lark said gravely.

All four recoiled from shock.

"Pardon?" Sandry asked, aghast.

"Their specific situations, more than their specific powers, make you the perfect teachers," Niko said gravely. "We had hoped that the four of you would be able to connect with them with better luck than we have had."

Sandry was first to shake her head. "I'm sorry," she said in a tone both polite and distant. "Great-Uncle Vedris just has so much to do these days, and I need to supervise for him, and it just ..."

Tris and Daja looked as if about to repeat her refusals, both looking as if they'd rather swallow live coals than stay in this place so haunted with memories.

But Briar was in fact the next one to speak. "I'd be happy to," he said simply. "I have missed this place. And ... this is probably the best way to carry on Rosethorn's legacy."

Daja was next to acquiesce. "Briar ... has brought up a good point. It would be good to give back the teaching we once received."

Tris inclined her head. "It's not like I have anything better to do."

All three turned to watch Sandry, who did not meet their eyes. "I ..." her voice wavered. "If you ... wouldn't mind having me back ... I'd love to." Was something finally staving off the emptiness?"

Niko broke the silence. "Further arrangements can be made tomorrow. The four of you should rest." He and Lark walked out, and paused just outside the door.

"The Circle is almost whole again," Lark said, relieved.

"Almost."

To be continued ...


	4. Ramon and Tas

Daja surveyed her new room. The four youngsters, the new students, had taken up their own rooms. She had decided against rooming in Discipline, taking up lodging instead at the forge. Frostpine had welcomed her back, had asked no questions (not that questions needed to be asked, mind you – everyone that knew the Circle knew also of the rift). Kirel, she learned, no longer worked at Winding Circle. He had gotten hitched to another metal mage and they had set up shop in Namorn.

She ... wasn't quite sure what she felt about that. She and Kirel had broken off their relationship, both agreeing that they made better friends. But, perhaps because she had left so abruptly not weeks after their breakup, she felt as if she lacked closure.

Which was silly. She wasn't going to travel all the way to Namorn to speak with an old flame about closure.

But it was just another sign of how life had moved on without her. Which was to be expected, she knew. Still ...

* * *

Sandry supervised the students transporting her things. She would be living in the spare room at Discipline, the palace being too far to commute. Unconsciously, she fingered the circle of thread she still carried with her at all times. A quiet noise disturbed her thoughts, and she turned to see her great-uncle (with far more white in his hair than she would like).

"I know today is your last day here and you must be terribly busy with preparations," he said apologetically, "but I was wondering if you could entertain our latest guest, Lord Linden. Show him around the palace, the gardens. Something like that. He's about your age, so I'm sure he'd appreciate it more than me as a tour guide; I have an important meeting with the merchants now anyways."

"Of course," Sandry smiled faintly at her uncle.

Duke Vedris watched his niece sweep out of the room with a tinge of sorrow. He remembered a friendlier, far more open Sandry than the one that now smiled only at him, and rarely at that. He prayed that her time at Winding Circle would make her happier.

* * *

Briar and the boy sat in the room together, in absolute silence. Briar was already doubting his immediate agreement to this teaching thing. What did _he_ know about teaching?

The boy spoke first. "Master Goldeye says you shall be teaching me, Master ... Moss." He seemed a bit uncertain about the name, and his voice was curiously accented.

"That is true," Briar admitted.

"I am Lo-Ramón, son of Lo-Roann, son of Lo-Goran. My father is the chieftain of the Fireheads, and I hold power over Earth." He looked expectantly at Briar.

So this child was of Nomad heritage, then. Stiff with honor and more accustomed to wandering the uncharted lands up north. Briar briefly wondered why this child was here, now. Nomads rarely left their clans, and even more rarely left their lands. "Call me Briar," he said authoritatively. If there were no authority in his voice, he knew, the boy would take it to be modesty and continue addressing him as Master Moss (a sillier name he'd never heard). He'd had that much interaction with Nomads, at least.

Briar and Lo-Ramón exchanged brief smiles before the younger boy offered, "And you may call me Ramon, if it so pleases you."

"Alright."

Maybe this teaching thing wouldn't be so difficult after all ...

* * *

Tris had chosen not to room in Discipline. Returning to Winding Circle was bad enough. Living in that house with all of its memories? Her days would be too haunted by ghosts for anything to be accomplished. She did not envy Briar his new residence in Rosethorn's workroom or Sandry her old residence in her old, empty room at Discipline, or Daja her room in the almost-but-not-quite-familiar forge. Had they all really returned, in the end? Back where they started.

It was obviously, really, the more she thought about it, that this "teaching" they were supposed to do was nothing more than a plot contrived by their own teachers, who wished that the rift in the Circle be mended.

Niko had told her that she hadn't been the only one to abandon the Circle. Not long after her departure, Torero had driven off both Daja and Briar. She had not been surprised at this news, nor sad, nor nostalgic. It sometimes seemed that she had lost her capacity to feel anything but a numbing emptiness after her abrupt withdrawal from the Circle.

But no. Some feelings remained. The rift in the Circle summoned no sorrow from her, but if she dwelled too much on the realization that she hadn't_ known_, that she hadn't _sensed_, that she hadn't _felt_ because she was no longer part of the Circle ... then, sometimes, she felt a sort of hopelessness. And she could still feel embarrassment, she had discovered. When she first met Briar again, she could not help but recall her small and useless crush on Briar, an infantile notion from days gone past that embarrassed her now that she thought back on it.

After all, everyone then had known that Briar loved Sandry. And she had valued her friendship more than any semblance of a relationship, really. A friendship that she had eventually given up ...

A knock interrupted her thoughts. She looked up to see a young boy with white-blond hair and piercing green eyes. How old must he be? Ten? She felt old ...

She waited for him to speak.

"May I come in?"

She nodded acquiescence.

"My name is Tasmindu Weaver, but you can call me Tas. I appear to control the element of Air." He waited, but she didn't speak. "Niko said you were going to be my teacher." More silence. This time, he didn't speak. He waited, patiently.

Five, ten, fifteen minutes of silence passed. Tris nodded approvingly. "I don't know if we have been assigned specific students, but if Niko says so, it must be true."

Tas let out an explosive breath. That fifteen minutes of patience seemed to have been too much for him. "I look forward to learning under you," he chirped, then fled.

To be continued ...

Author's Note: The names are thanks to the suggestions of, I believe, Kirri, Pen Pen, and Kiara. If I missed any acknowledgments, please let me know.


	5. Pirelle and Kitty

Pirelle brushed back her midnight black hair and gazed at herself in the mirror, careful to be on the alert for her housemates. During her stay at Discipline, she had become far less obsessed with clothing and fashion, and her vanity had gone away, for the most part. If they saw her now, they would only tease her for lapsing back into old habits. They wouldn't understand.

She was about to meet Lady Sandrilene fa Toren. _The_ Lady Sandrilene fa Toren. One didn't appear in front of _the_ Lady Sandrilene unless one was immaculate. Lady Sandrilene was also a stitch witch, which meant she was particularly attuned to the nuances of fashion. It would be hard to impress Lady fa Toren.

Pirelle smoothed her dress and gazed at herself critically in the mirror. The gown was in the latest style, made of expensive, recycled cloths from previous gowns. The colors were tasteful and suited her coloring perfectly. The seamstress had also traced the basic protection spells on it, as well as a few for the preservation of the materials. She had paid extra for these, so the gown would last longer.

She tilted her head, and felt her dark tresses sway. She had spent an hour curling them just right. One could never be too prepared for a meeting with she who many presumed would be heiress to Emelan.

Finally, she was ready. She swept out of the room with a graceful, floating movement that had been pounded into her from birth and came face to face with her awed housemates. They had never seen herself so decked out, in full noble regalia. She swept them a full curtsy, with skirts spread wide and curls artfully dangling in front of her face, then rose up again and cocked an eyebrow.

"Well?" she demanded. "What do you think?"

"Wow ..."

Good enough. It was time to meet the Lady herself.

* * *

Lady Sandrilene was politely chattering with Lord Linden, covering the typical conversational topics that nobles discussed, when a maid approached her. "Lady Pirelle ei Polaris seeks a private audience with Your Ladyship."

Sandry ran through her mental list of acquaintances, and couldn't seem to come up with a single "ei Polaris" she was on familiar terms with. The Pirelle was a fourth or fifth daughter, right?

"I can wait," Linden said politely. "I shall wait over by the apple trees."

Sandry accepted his suggestion gratefully and turned as the maid led her to meet this elusive Pirelle.

When they arrived, Sandry immediately recognized her as the dark-haired girl from Discipline. She bit back a sigh of irritation. The second thing she noticed was that the girl wore a fashion that really was too mature for her. The girl couldn't have been much older than what, ten? Twelve? She certainly hadn't developed enough for those ruffles to be of any use. Or those ribbons.

Pirelle, on her part, noticed the disapproval immediately. Nevertheless, she soldiered on, and swept a deep curtsy.

Sandry barely kept from the voicing the criticism that came to mind (_What a pretentious curtsy!_) and nodded curtly in return.

Pirelle rallied together her courage. "Master Goldeye informed me that I would have the honor of having you as my teacher."

And then there was a long silence, as each waited for the other to speak.

"Is that all?" Sandry finally asked.

"I thought it would be courteous to introduce myself," Pirelle snapped.

"Introductions have been made," Sandry said. Then, seeing the furious look on Pirelle's face, she relented. "I am entertaining right now," she stated. "Further introductions can be made after I have completely moved back into Discipline." Having said all she needed to say, she summoned a maid. "Show Lady Pirelle back to Discipline," she said summarily.

Pirelle seethed in indignation, but she didn't have anything to say and could only follow out of the room.

_This sucks_.

* * *

Meanwhile, Briar was in a meeting with Lord Fitch, who he had been told was an important contributor and donated much money to Winding Circle so he was _not to be offended at all_. But it was difficult to hold back insults as Lord Fitch went on.

"I'm sorry that my student attacked your son," Briar repeated, "but all the witnesses state he was provoked."

"Where are your witnesses?" Lord Fitch demanded. "Where is your evidence? I want that boy punished for what he did!"

Briar held back a retort. It was going to be a long day ...

* * *

Tris, of course, was in the library. As usual. She hadn't had access to this many books since she'd left Winding Circle. Occasionally, one of the Dedicates would stop by to check on her, make sure she wasn't suffering too much from malnutrition. But none attempted to separate her from her precious books.

* * *

Daja was in the forge, patiently making her nails, when the redhead from Discipline showed up and declared, quite loudly, "My name is Kitiana Tabura Guilder. I am to be your charge. I seem to have some affinity for Fire."

Daja allowed some silence to pass before commenting. "Isn't firestarting the sort of gift you go to Lightsbridge for?"

"Not my kind," Kitiana said grimly.

"And isn't Tabura a Trader name?"

"My great-grandmother was declared _trangshi_, and she married a _lugsha_, and named her child a Trader name. My blood is very diluted now. I know a few words in Trader-talk, but not many. I don't meet many Traders," she admitted, "so I don't know much about whether the _trangshi_-status passes on."

"You're not technically a Trader," Daja said. "So you can't be _trangshi_."

"Well, that's good to know," Kitiana said dryly. "You can call me Kitty, by the way."

"And you can call me _Pahan_ Kisubo," Daja said equally dryly. This girl really needed to learn some manners. But she was teach-able.

To be continued ...


	6. Lord Linden

Story 18 - Chapter 6  
  
A/N: I have to REWRITE this!!  
  
Sandry, Daja, Tris, and Briar were all waiting patiently (in Tris's case, impatiently) for their charges to come down. Finally, Tris got tired of waiting. Not even thinking about, she ran into the house, ready to inflict bodily damage onto their very late charges.  
  
Daja sighed, and went in after her. Moments later, a loud crash was heard. "Up! Up! Wake up already!" Apparently, the frustrated Tris was now banging pots and pans together to express her dissatisfaction. And from the occasional "Ow!" heard, she was not too uptight to whack them with some of them if they were still sleeping.  
  
Finally, a sleepy Pirelle, a murderous Kitty, a sheepish Ramon, and a yawning Tas came out of Discipline. Tris came out after them, looking somewhat satisfied, and Daja walked out after her, running her fingers over her staff.  
  
Briar eyed the staff suspiciously. Maybe not all of the cries came from pots and pans .  
  
"Why are we up?" Kitty demanded.  
  
Briar, Tris, and Sandry looked to Daja, her mentor. Daja sighed. "Did we or did we not tell you yesterday that you would wake up at five- thirty? And is it or is it not five thirty-one?"  
  
"We're one minute late. That's still not reason to be so loud!" Pirelle grumbled.  
  
"You are here to learn Discipline," Sandry said in a level tone. "Every morning, you will get up at five-thirty to meet us out here. We shall be taking turns instructing you, and you *will* be here on time."  
  
The four nodded meekly.  
  
"Now," Briar said. "Let's begin. Let's see how much you have learned so far ."  
  
+Earth+ +Air+ +Water+ +Fire+  
  
"I shall take revenge . let me see. Aleia Keystone has been dead long ago. Dearie me. Too bad. Especially since I killed her. She had no children, but she did have two sisters . well, it looks like all of her descendents are gone except for two. One Lord Linden and one Tasmindu Weaver. Well, let's see how long it takes for me to finish them off ."  
  
+Earth+ +Air+ +Water+ +Fire+  
  
Sandry heaved a sigh. She wasn't teaching until that afternoon, so she could stretch a while. She shook her head. Those four children had much unharnessed power, but they had no discipline. Unless they learned how to control it, they would be in trouble. As she sat in her room, Lark came in.  
  
"You have a visitor," Lark said gently.  
  
Sandry looked up. "Who is it?"  
  
"He introduced himself as Lord Linden."  
  
Sandry looked up in surprise. "Really?" she asked. "Tell him I'll be right with him."  
  
As she walked up to meet Lord Linden, she prayed with all of her heart that this wasn't ~another~ marriage proposal. Lords had been over from all over the land, trying to "woo" her, to her disgust. It would have been nicer if she had known that they liked her, or at least found her pleasant. But no. They were all power-hungry lords who wanted to be able to rule Emelan through her. Lord Linden had seemed polite, kind, and even seemed to enjoy her company so far. Maybe he would prove the exception to the rule.  
  
Lord Linden looked up. "Greetings, Lady Sandrilene," he said.  
  
"Lord Linden," she inclined her head. She was too well trained to let it on her face, but her curiosity was peaked. What did he want? Not a marriage proposal, not a marriage proposal, she prayed.  
  
He bit his lip. "Well, I might as well be blunt about this. Against my wishes, my father ordered me to court you, so I thought I might as well get asking for your hand in marriage out of the way. So let's just pretend I asked you to marry me and you said no, and it'll save me the ~real~ agony of being rejected." He smiled at her. "After all," he shrugged. "Both you know and I know that you're tired of leeches coming to bask in your glory, oh almighty Duchess-to-be of Emelan, who they are sure will fall in love with them as soon as you glimpse their manly charm, and disgustingly good looks. Definitely an ego trip."  
  
Lady Sandrilene permitted herself a genuine smile as well as a chuckle. "Is that all you wanted?" she asked politely. She smiled. "Besides, of course, to insult some more impertinent and impetuous arrogant lords some more."  
  
"Well, I was wondering if we could just be friends," Lord Linden said promptly. "I don't have many friends back home . not any *real* friends, anyways. Most of the people where I come from are just bootlickers who should be pitied, and lords my father wants me to be friends with, who are backbiting dunces who are way too full of themselves."  
  
"Your friend?" Lady Sandrilene asked in surprise. "Well, I suppose so."  
  
"Good," Lord Linden smiled. "Then you can just call me Linden."  
  
"And you can call me Sandry," Sandry said finally.  
  
And a friendship was formed.  
  
+Earth+ +Air+ +Water+ +Fire+  
  
Briar shook his head. He definitely wasn't going to regret Tris having the first shift. Those kids were annoying! At least his charge Ramon didn't yell out at the teachers, or glare at them, or play jokes on them. He rubbed the back of his head in remembrance of a particularly vicious pea Tas had sent flying from a peashooter after he had informed them that there would be only half an hour of free time a day. He had no idea what kind of lifestyles they were suited to, and whether or not Lark and Rosethorn had gone soft, but-. He paused in mid-thought, and winced. No. Rosethorn was gone. Niko and Frostpine had retired. He amended his thought. And whether or not Lark had grown soft, but he and his mates had been used to less in the beginning.  
  
Of course, maybe he was old-fashioned . He snorted. Old-fashioned? Him? He was barely out of his teens for goodness's sakes. Maybe it would have been better for his present sanity if he had taken the first teaching shift. At least then, he wouldn't be worrying about being old-fashioned, of all things. God, now he was talking to himself. He really needed to rest. He shook his head to clear it. Come to think of it, he was pretty sleepy. He ought to go to his room and nap for a bit. Nap? Him? Nap? He was getting soft! Or maybe he was just getting too used to a Bag's lifestyle. He sighed and walked into his room, when out of the corner of his eye, he caught something.  
  
As he leaned over to look, he saw Sandry and Lord Linden walking in Rosethorn's garden, hand in hand .  
  
A/N: I need to count up the votes now! Sandry/Briar and Tris/Lord Linden, or Sandry/Lord Linden, and Tris/ Briar . or annex out the Lord Linden completely! This is your last chance to vote. Next time I post up, I'm posting up MAJOR couple hints, and it'll be unchangeable! WARNING! VOTE! Oh yeah . and review. 


	7. Revelations

Briar's stomach clenched and his heart tightened. In that moment, he found out the truth that he had been hiding from himself ever since the circle had broken. Despite everything, he still loved Sandry. The words echoed through his mind. He closed his eyes and leaned on the wall. After everything . he still loved her. He knew Sandry had changed, and he saw the pain in her eyes. And yet he loved her. Still. After everything! His mind was in a turmoil. He had loved her and loved her still. And now, another lord was courting her. Probably a lord with a high standing and a long-listed genealogy. One whose proposal she would probably accept. Because she, of course, would have forgotten about him. She would not return his love. Never. Right?  
  
Get real, he thought to himself. Who do you think you are? You aren't and never will be a Bag. And Sandry is. She's a noble, and she's going to marry another noble, and she'll rule Emelan. Her life will have nothing to do with you. And you'll stay at Winding Circle in Summersea all your life, or you'll live out the rest of your life on the streets. Either way, your future won't be with her. Will never be with her. If you keep on thinking of her . you will only get hurt. Like last time. But worse. The only way to do it is to avoid her.  
  
Briar's face set determinedly. I will avoid her, he told himself. He was determined. And she'll live her life, and I'll live mine. Separately. We're just not meant to be. Will never be meant to be. Cannot be meant to be. He turned from the scene of Sandry laughing with Lord Linden. No, not Sandry anymore. He must not call her Sandry anymore. It was Lady Sandrilene. Lady Sandrilene fa Toren, probable heiress to the fair realm of Emelan.  
  
+Earth+ +Air+ +Water+ +Fire+  
  
Daja closed her eyes in memory. Being back at Discipline was good for her, she decided. Already, she felt more refreshed, happy, and glad to see the new day. The only way she could happier, she thought sadly, was if she were friends with Tris, Briar, and Sandry again, if they were all part of the circle again.  
  
And that would never happen. Not with stubborn pride holding them back. She sighed as she rested on the wall. No matter what happened, the rift between them was too great to be breached by friendship again. Pain had been caused, and would not go away. It's a wonder what a few spiteful words spoken in a few moments of heat can do to a friendship, she thought wearily to herself.  
  
She looked around her. She was outside of Discipline, huddled against the comforting presence of a tall, leafy tree. This was what she had left behind. The serenity and tranquility. The homey feeling. This was where she had belonged . and from where she had run away. But it would no longer be the same. This she knew. The knowledge that her friends would always be there . gone. She had last her saati, her three truest friends. And with it, she had lost her happiness.  
  
And then there was the matter of Kirel. Kirel was a small matter. Frostpine had told her that he was visiting some northern city as a journeyman. He would not be back for a while, and she had the luxury of pushing him to the back of her head. Yet she did not. She worried the subject over and over. What did she feel for Kirel? She did not know when it had begun, exactly, but one day, Kirel had just hugged her, and it had felt right. And ever since then, they had taken each other, and their love, for granted.  
  
But now what? She had left without warning, without a note. She did not expect him to love her after all these years . she did not even expect him to be single. She only hoped he had not forgotten her. For she had not forgotten him. And she never would.  
  
+Earth+ +Air+ +Water+ +Fire+  
  
Sandry laughed as Lord Linden told her about another hilarious incident with yet another bootlicker. She should not do this. She had consented to be his friend, but she should not have. She would only get friend. Friends would only leave her empty. But there was no harm, was there? Lord Linden was a nice man, and it would leave her with an ally in the north, at least.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Briar leave the roof. The roof. The roof she had her friends used to frequent so many times in a temporary attempt to delay chores. NO. Must not think about happy times, or I will be sad again, she reminded herself firmly. Think of the present. Not the past, or the future. The present.  
  
"Is something on your mind?" Linden asked gently.  
  
Sandry sighed. "It's . nothing of consequence. Just the past. And the future. And the present."  
  
Linden wisely chose not to say anything, only observed her sad face. "I hope one day you will be able to tell me what troubles you."  
  
"So do I, Linden. So do I." The day she would be able to tell him would be the day it would no longer hurt. And how she longed for it to no longer hurt.  
  
+Earth+ +Air+ +Water+ +Fire+  
  
Tris rubbed her forehead, groaning silently. What had possessed her to agree . to this? Chaos reigned. Pirelle was not paying attention to her, but was, in fact, listening aptly to Kitty, who was jabbering on about some subject or other. Tas was using his Air Magic to lob missiles all over the room every time she wasn't paying attention. And Ramon? He was just sitting there, staring at the wall. And she had the feeling that he was testing her.  
  
She was not suited to this. She hated it when people threw eggs at her. She hated it when she had to explain something to people who didn't understand. She was impatient. She hated it when people tested her. She hated it when she was ignored. She hated teaching. She hated this. Slowly, she felt her temper build up. "Silence!" she roared, her temper getting the better of her. Almost unwillingly, she felt her magic build up within her, and tendrils of air sneak out to make her voice larger.  
  
And at the same time, she felt the gentle warmth of fire, the soft of green of plants, and the steady rhythm of a shuttle weaving cloth.  
  
+Earth+ +Air+ +Water+ +Fire+  
  
Suddenly, Daja felt some of her magic jerked from her, almost unwillingly. She found herself in Tris's head, staring at four children who had stopped their unruly behavior to stare in shocked silence at her.  
  
+Earth+ +Air+ +Water+ +Fire+  
  
Briar's mind was immediately taken off his musing when he felt the fresh breeze against him . the mind-him. Immediately, he felt as if he were jerked of his feet, and he found himself in Tris's head, staring at four children who had finally quieted down.  
  
+Earth+ +Air+ +Water+ +Fire+  
  
Sandry was just about to respond to Linden, when she felt some of her magic slipping away from her. She found herself in Tris's head, facing an utterly silent room with four children and herself in it.  
  
To be continued . 


	8. Stuck

Having one's mind stuck in a body with three other girls who definitely ~did not~ want to be there was not fun, Briar found. Especially not when one's teachers could currently not help you out of this predicament. And when one's students were sniggering about it.  
  
No, Briar was definitely not in a good mood at all. On the contrary ... he was in a very bad mood, amused, yet bad mood. Tris still had complete control of her body, but there were three other minds crowded in her brain. She had barely managed to put up a shield and keep them from reading her private thoughts. Tris was in a very bad mood. So was Sandry. And Daja. From the sound of it, Daja had been in a very elaborate self-pitying mood when she was dragged into Tris's mind by who knew what. And Sandry had been talking to Linden. Lady Sandrilene had been talking to Lord Linden, Briar mentally corrected. Although it was somewhat amusing to have his mind-self sit back while the girls' mind-selves argued relentlessly, it was getting tiring.  
  
Especially since they were starting in on him.  
  
"How come you've not done a thing to help so far?" Tris's mind-self demanded, whirling on him, venting her anger.  
  
"It's been too much fun watching you three fight like kittens." Oops. Wrong thing to say. While beforehand, the girls had been antagonistic towards each other as well, they now turned as one person. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. The three girls had come to the same conclusions as their mind-selves advanced upon his mind-self.  
  
As Briar found his mind-self being chased around Tris's mind, he idly wondered what his realy body was doing at the moment. Had it collapsed in a dead faint? He helped not. Had it frozen in place? He hoped not. But chances were, it had done one of the two.  
  
Finally, Niko's gentle voice came through. "Now try to get back to your own bodies."  
  
Their teachers had attempted relentlessly to reopen the channels that had driven them all into Tris's mind. Nothing had worked so far. This attempt failed as well.  
  
"Maybe one of us should attempt to use magic," Daja suggested. "Tris's magic got us here in the first place."  
  
"No," Sandry shook her head. "We'd probably just end up in that person's body."  
  
None of them voiced the thought in their heads. Should either of them attempt to use magic, what would happen if the magic would not come to their beck and call. If they felt the emptiness and loneliness all the more acutely. And to feel it while your ex-friends, your ex-Circle-mates were watching you. That would be embarassing. It would wreck all semblance they had of a good appearance.  
  
Brair looked around him. Pride comes before a fall, he remembered. And he wondered who would fall first. Who would collapse and lose his or her dignity? It would not be Daja. Traders were know for their haughty dignity, which kept their race proud despite the prejudices against them. Traders made an art of pride. It would not be Sandry. Nobles were known for their pride. And not just pride. Thier haughtiness and smugness made nobles do the silliest things to prove their ranks. Sandry may have been a good chum a long time ago, but she could still draw on that haughtiness to become a noble through-and-through when she needed to. And she would not give in to her loneliness. Neither would it be Tris. Tris had a short fuse and a large temper, but she was good at holding grudges. And her pride was also one that had been tested time and again, and had not failed her. She would not be the one to lose her dignity.  
  
He was the street-boy. He had not even known the meaning of the word "pride" before coming to Winding Circle. They had definitely spoiled him. While pride had been a once foreign concept to him, it was now ingrained into is bones. He knew that he had made this complaint before, lodged it to his conscience. His conscience had ignored him, and his pride had taken over. He was the one who had not been brought up with pride instilled in him. And from the looks of it, he would be the first to fall.  
  
"I'll try it," he said impassively. He saw something he did not recognize flicker over Tris's eyes as he said this, and he saw a wince from Daja. Obvsiouly, both had been thinking about the past as well.  
  
But Sandry said not a word. Her face was blank and cold. She was ice.  
  
Sighing, Briar closed his eyes. Meditating was something he did often, convicincing himself that it wasn't exactly magic. Slowly, he felt his mind-self become at peace. And he reached inside himself, to that wellspring of magic, and began encouraging it to grow. It hurt at first, because he was not used to doing this alone. But gradually, a willow tree began to grow, swaying back and forth as it formed.  
  
He only needed to do something simple. Just to see if his magic still worked.  
  
He breathed deeply, and closed his eyes. Slowly, he urged Rosethorn's plants to grow, tendrils reaching out and ensnaring the doorknob, pulling it open in such an eerie way. He was unaware of the presence ...  
  
+Earth+ +Air+ +Water+ +Fire+  
  
The evil in the distance wavered. It had been searching for Lord Linden and Tasmindu Weaver. But now it was halted. Where once it had felt no power to match it, now it felt the power of four. The combined power of four. The evil began to take shape in its anger. What emerged was something not human.  
  
It was a formless shape, a wraith, clothed in a black cloak with a long, drooping hood that hid his face from view. (a/n: imagine Dementors.) The lower half of its body faded into nothingness, resembling a ghost, just a pale, luminscent green. The top half had arms that stretched out. The sleeves slowly fell back to reveal withered, long, groping appendages where hands should have been. They each had five tendrils, one shorter than the rest, somewhat resmbling a hand and its fingers, but they were wrinkled, revelaing bone, and were the white-yellow color of death. And slowly, the things that might have been called hands pulled back its hood to reveal a monstrous void.  
  
There were no eyes, only shriveled eye sockets with black emptines in them that seemed to glare balefully around it. There was no nose, only small slits resembling that of a snake. There was no mouth, but instead a gaping maw of nothing but yellow, cracked teeth. As it opened its mouth-like hole, a faint green light breezed out, emitting a despicable, nasty odor.  
  
"The Four are here," it hissed. While before, its voice had only rasped, now its face made one wince as if there were fingernails scraping across a chalkboard. "The Four that backed the accursed Keystone so long ago are here today, protecting her unfathomable ancestors. But they are weak, vulnerable, susceptible. They will fall one by one, and I shall watch them ... and laugh."  
  
And slowly the night faded as day arrived, even as night was falling at Winding Circle.  
  
And the evil had arisen.  
  
To be continued ...  
  
I have been posting up shorter and shorter chapters ... but more and more frequently. Is anybody proud of me? :) 


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